In 2004, I directed two runs of a little show called "the monday show" (Intentionally uncapitalized to avoid pretension.) I couldn't have been happier with the two runs. I got superlative casts for both runs and they worked very hard to learn the form that I was presenting and to help me shape it. Directing those two shows has been one of the most intensely rewarding artistic experiences of my adult life. For a time, I was the type of artist that I wanted to be, by working on those shows.
And they were both very well received. People who came to see the shows, enjoyed them immensly. And improvisers who saw them, knew that they were seeing something special up there on that stage. A departure from the "contextless absurdism" that is the popular fashion right now. The show offered them patient scenes of real human beings acting as human beings act. And dramatic scenes, improvised for them, actively involving their suggestions.
After he saw the show, Don Hall, a director/producer that I honestly admire said the greatest possible thing to me. He said, "If they saw that show, both Del [Close] and Martin [De Maat] would've loved it, but for entirely different reasons. But they would've both walked away, loving it."
For a show that was conceived as a tribute to the work of the early days of improv, there couldn't have been a finer compliment.
In actual conversations with people who were genuinely interested in the show, I was frequently asked either "why do you do the show" or "how did you come up with that?" In a response to both questions, I wrote this blog entry.
Why the monday show?01:30pm 29/03/2005
Some folks asked me last night, "where did you come up with the monday show?" I stumbled out an answer that was part timeline and part philosophy. I think that my answer was clouded from the elation that comes in the aftermath of a particularly successful show. I thought I might take a stab at it here, in this blog.
Chronologically, I first started talking about doing "the monday show" in the late summer/early fall of 2002. I was seeing A LOT of improv, in those days, as a player/ intern at IO and beginning my exploration of The Playground. A lot of what I saw was fast, verbal and shallow. Not everything, mind you, but a lot of it.
I think that playing style comes from fear and nervousness. I think that the mind races, when we hear silence and we open the verbal floodgates, without knowing it, and the words just pour out. Not a harsh criticism. I think we all suffer that, at some time or another. We are speaking as fast as possible, to lure the silent audience into approving of us and rewarding us with their unguarded laughter.
If you see a lot of new teams performing, then you'll tend to see more of this happening onstage. Which was what I was seeing, back in 2002.
I wanted to see something else.
I wanted to see a slower, more patient show (this is before TJ and Dave came along and gave that to audiences on Wednesday nights, pretty consistently.) I wanted to see characters interacting and affecting each others lives in honest, believable ways. If someone got hurt, I wanted to see that. And I wanted to see them react and lash out at the person who hurt them. I wanted to see courtships that lead to something happening. And I wanted to see someone treat someone else with love and mercy and grace, onstage.
In short, I wanted to see Improvised Theater. Not just Improvised Comedy.
At the time, I was also reading Jeffrey Sweets, "Something Wonderful Right Away" and Janet Coleman’s "The Compass". So, I was immersed in the story of the genesis of Improv. I liked how the forefathers approached Improv from a place of love and respect for theatre. They were actors first. And there was no Improv sub-culture to become immersed in. Consequently, when they improvised, they acted. Just with minimal props and scenery, depending on the audience to supply that for them.
I read about how the cast would perform Improv sets, in those days. How they would take suggestions from the audience very seriously. And limit the suggestions, in order to fully explore what they were given. They would write what the audience gave them up on big sheets of paper, and then go backstage and dream up a rough outline of a show and then perform it, with no other planning, than that.
As I was reading that, I couldn't figure why modern teams weren't doing that. My private theory was that THIS was why shows were a little incoherent and haphazard these days, because of the lack of forethought put into their performance. 8 to 10 people trusting on the ethereal group mind to lead them down paths that they'd already explored in rehearsal, in front of a live audience and trusting that they would ALL be on the same page. More often than not, the entire group wouldn't be together and the show would suffer for it.
One day, in the Fall of 2002, riding the train to my crappy day job, I decided to direct that show. The show that I wanted to see. The one with dignity given to the audience’s suggestion. With a little hint of pre-planning. With some service given to the formality of performance. With the tablet and the discussion and the slower, more patient scenes.
I first started talking to people, at that point, about the possibly doing the show. One of the first people that I talked about it to, was Bill Cockshoot. He agreed to be in the show. Later, he moved to Russia. I also discussed it and refined with Ben Parker (who is IN the show, right now) and John Laflamboy (who would later go on to perform in a similar style with Jimmy Carrane's team, My Naked Friends.) They helped me formalize the abstract idea into a form that could work, every week, in performance.
Later, that week, at a late fall cookout at John Laflamboy’s house, I heard Ben Kramer take up his guitar. I'd heard Ben play and knew he was brilliant. It was just accepted in our social circles that Ben was gifted with the guitar. It was accepted and not commented upon; in the same way that Hemingway’s friends might think "he writes pretty good books."
At that campfire, I was drunk and sunk down in a sling-back chair around a campfire, toasting marshmallows on a long stick when Ben started playing. People typically stopped talking, when Ben played. Unless they knew the words of what he was playing. And then they would stop talking, to sing with him. Ben was (and is still) quiet and humble with his gift. He LOVED to play music. And he LOVED pleasing people with it. Sitting there, in that chair, I thought, "Why isn't he playing anywhere? He's SO GOOD. And he's our little secret. Why doesn't anyone use him in a show?"
I decided, then and there, to ask him to do the monday show when it began. He agreed immediately. He would provide the musical underscoring for the improvised show. The same thing that the piano does at IO and at Second City.
And then we shelved the show for 2 years.
Distracted by work, improv shows, busy schedules and life, the idea sat on a shelf, in the back of my mind, until 2003. Inspired by Becky Eldridge's success with "Little House on the Prairie" and with Diane Sparks & Stephanie Hoerner’s "Can we see some ID please?" I learned that it WAS possible to conceive and produce a show from the ground up. Space could be rented. Casts could be found. Costumes borrowed. Audiences found. All of that was possible. If an individual were tenacious enough.
I REALLY wanted to produce my first show.
So, I did CLUELESS.
That show was an absurdist, parody-tribute of murder-mystery comedies, based upon the board game, CLUE. Complete with a revolver, a conservatory and a Colonel Mustard. Due to scheduling snafus and my own inexperience, we rehearsed that monster for nearly 9 months, before we ever opened it. It opened in the Spring of last year and enjoyed a pretty successful run. We made A LITTLE bit of cash on it and all felt pretty good about the material that we presented.
After the show closed, I was ready to work on something else. I wanted to direct something new. Truth be told, the cast was by and large ready to play in something else. Something new. And they gave me the credit that I could come up with something for them to play. I didn't want to disappoint them.
My first idea was a Staged Reenactment of the blockbuster mega-movie ARMAGEDDON. I had the funny notion of casting Mark Henderson as The Asteroid. I saw him in a GIGANTIC garbage bag asteroid costume, twirling in the house and menacing the actors onstage. The idea is STILL funny to me, now. Especially as I know Mark better now. But after watching the movie and realizing the MASSIVE cast, multiple locations, overblown special effects and flat, terrible dialogue, I shied away from the idea. I couldn't logically think of a way to adapt the whole thing to the stage. It was too much. So, that idea got shelved.
The next idea was a 50's Sci-Fi, absurdist monster movie. The working title was "INVASION OF THE MOON-MARTIANS" which was funny because it was an invasion of one creature and nothing could logically be from the moon AND from Mars. The script was outlined and some dialogue was written. The cast was approached and some roles were assigned. However, there was a problem casting 2 or 3 people in the show. Other conflicts prevented some folks from getting on board. And some of the dialogue was just flat out terrible. I jettisoned the idea for use at a later date.
After thinking BIG for a show idea, I remembered the tiny nugget of a show form, the monday show. I didn't have a title for the show, yet. Or a cast. But I had an idea of the form and for its presentation. I started talking to people in October of last year and was able to get my dream cast (with one regrettable absence, John Laflamboy was not available).
Kathy Betts was a holdover from CLUELESS. She was immediately interested.
So, was Phil Festoso. Phil had served as our stalwart tech guy for CLUELESS, nailing complex lighting effects and sound effects consistently. He was hungry for performance time. So, I asked him do the show with me. He immediately agreed.
Dave Ries also signed on early for the show. He was new to the city and ready to play. Neither of us knew, at the time, that he was about to get VERY, VERY busy with other shows. We are very lucky to have him in the show.
Jason Czernich and Patrick Stonelake came along about the same time. I met Czernich from sub-coaching his Incubator team, No Shoe Zone. I liked how he grounded his scenes there. And when he got REALLY angry in a scene or acted like a bastard, it was in conflict with his sort of boyish appearance. I still say, no one plays a bastard, like Jason Czernich. I met Patrick in Cholley Kuhanek’s experimental team rehearsals. I "knew" him from his posts on CIN. I was blow away by his quiet, grounded scene work. I remember saying to him, at the time, "You HAVE to be in this show. I simply will NOT accept no for an answer." Luckily, he agreed to come play with us.
I'd gotten to know Edison Girard from playing with him on International Stinger. Besides being a SOLID, SOLID supporting player (a deserved point of pride for him), Edison is interesting to look at, onstage. He moves well and just looks interesting. He's also a little older than most players, so his scenes are more patient and are informed by experience. I like that about him. I was very pleased to have him on board. Since working on the show, Edison has also become one of my best friends in the world. I have a very deep admiration for him.
I approached Ben Kramer about the show and he remembered the idea from the first time I talked to him about it. He quietly agreed to do it. And little more was said about it, since then. He has also NEVER missed a rehearsal and has sought me out privately, to discuss his place in the show. The end result of his curiosity is that he FULLY compliments the show, now. It's amazing. He is also nicely featured in the end of the show. People STILL talk about his endings. He's subtly amazing.
A late addition to the show was Ben Parker. I had sort of lost touch with him, after CLUELESS. We both got busy and didn't socialize as much as we used to. It was by chance, that he happened to be at The Playground, sub-coaching Dan Telfer’s team, Mort, when I had a show. We caught up, backstage, and I offered him a place on the show. With less than a week to go, before rehearsals began. He agreed and has brought his best game to the show.
The final player to join the team was Nicole Cardano. I'd seen her play with her PG team, Boomtown, and had talked to her briefly, at the Town Hall Pub. Whereas Kathy Betts, is quiet and reserved (mostly), Nicole is short and brassy and full of energy. When she talks to you, she smiles at you, like she's been waiting ALL DAY to hear what you have to say. Guys quickly develop little crushes on her. I wanted to translate that to the show. That playful, exciting, energetic delivery. And she has, definitely brought that to the stage. She reminds me of what I imagined Elaine May must've been like, without the anger that May later exhibited. I can't think of a higher compliment.
We began rehearsals for the show in October of 2004. Amy Roeder at Breadline Theatre provided us an affordable, clean, warm space to rehearse in. I remember VERY WELL, that first rehearsal. We met and everyone was in high spirits. We played silly short form games and got to know each other. I didn't work, at all, on the shows form. Just in giving each other a chance to play with each other and enjoy each others company. That spirit of admiration and cooperation has never waned.
Choosing the name, "the monday show" came late in the process. I had flirted with a ton of other pretentious, faggoty names like "Query" and "Give and Take" and "?". Until I had a title, I referred to it, in conversations and emails as "the monday show" since it rehearsed on and was performed on Mondays. I think it was in a call to Czernichs's voicemail that I just decided to use that as the name for the show.
"the monday show"
All lower caps, to avoid the pretension that I was trying to force on it. And it was generic enough a title, to interest people and informative enough to give out critical info about it. When it shows.
For the remount, I should change the title to
"the monday show at the playground at 8pm from August to September, $10 to get in."
Or not.
Ask me if the show works, and I will say that it does.
The show is patient.
The players are smart.
Scenes are longer and deal with people (or inanimate objects personified) interacting in a realistic, dignified way.
We rarely use funny voices, unless they convey some color to the characters.
We don't sweep edit.
We don't use time lapses or cutaways.
We don't use offstage voices very much.
We also leave, if a character is so motivated.
For the audience, it is, I think a reminder that beyond the shtick, there is an artistic dignity to what we do. We are performers and storytellers. We have a responsibility to welcome the audience, to involve them and to reflect their lives back at them without trashing them int he process. In exchange for their paid admission, we are charged to entertain them and to enlighten them, if only a little bit. To say, "we get it, come inside, get comfortable and enjoy this gift which we want to give you. We are just the same as you."
This show is about quiet moments, as well as silly ones. I love that. I love seeing performers onstage who are SO masterful of their craft that they can exist in their reality without piling the dialogue up. It's PRECISELY the sort of work that I would want to pay to see, if I weren't involved in the show already.
As I write this, we are halfway through the performance cycle. We've been rewarded with strong houses for the last two shows. For the most part, rent is covered, for the run. That is a removed stress. The house that we take in for April goes to the cast, to reward them for their dedication to the show. A happy bonus, because I know that they've already received what they wanted from the show. To perform in an Exceptionally good show. I've gotten my reward already, too. To direct an exceptionally good show. To be a part of this process from the beginning and to have my peers, which I respect deeply, say "that's a pretty good idea."
So, there's the history of the show, from Day One, to mid-run.
In case you were wondering, where the show came from. And in case I was too scattered, last night to explain it to you, properly.
See you on some Monday night.
COB
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